Losing Your Mind, What's Love Got To Do With It
by Formerly-ForlornShadowlily009
Summary: Hiroshi is a wreck.His mind cracking and his playing failing. At night he lays and dreams about a golden lover. Can someone save him before he's beyond repair and show him the meaning of what Shuichi calls GRAVITATION. NOW REVISED. KxHiro. R&R PLease
1. Chapter 1

Losing your mind, Whats love got to do with it?

Disclaimer:my story! but i do not own gravitation.

Warnings mature themes and yaoi.

Thank you for reading.

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It was a disturbance. A proverbial thorn in his paw and it drove him screaming silently into the darkness of his mind. He was falling, failing, and extinguishing. He was trapped, confined by his own flaws, and crashing in flames. He was losing it, losing it all. Everything was slipping from his grasp; loose water drops that he couldn't hold on to. This constant fact blared in his ears, causing his fingers to tremble, and slide shakily along the wood. He could not think, could not comprehend, he could not succeed. Why had he become this mess of instability? Why had he transpired to the image of a loser? Throw him upon the ground and let him lie in the dirt. It would all be the same. He would just sit composed in the dark room of his employment and sulk. He would do just what he had been accomplishing for the last month. Minutes seemed to bleed into hours and the reward for such devotion was the blaring of missed notes.

The name Bad Luck now screamed in his face like sticky sarcasm. Taunting him; he was a fool. How was he supposed to know that such a name would return to haunt him. He sighed, his back arching, aching, and straining. He groaned, his teeth bitting into soft flesh. He moaned, everything was a mess. For past five minutes the thumping of wrong notes resonated from his guitar. The instrument was a masterpiece, a B.C Rich White Platinum Warlock. Though, even with such a piece of perfection what he desired could not be reach. He wanted the 3rd string E on the second fret, not the fourth string on the 3rd fret.

Another mistake to toss upon the pile.

How annoying, how diabolical unforgivable. It was an assault upon his mind that he could not play a single song without it being laced with flaws. Fearing what would happen next, he grasped the sides of his head with long fingers. A wave of anger and frustration swallowed him. Another wave struck him, tension streaked with the dull throbbing of a headache. He was siting on the floor of NG Studios trying desperately to finish a god damn song without messing up. Such an impossible act it seemed to him lately. He could not play, could not do want he had been chosen to do. This was his profession and he could not succeed in it.

It was time to rally up the score, to award points to the devil that had written the song. Zero to one, he was losing greatly. How could such a pink hair baka beat him?

Gently, and with more gracefulness than he thought he possessed, he released his hold on his instrument. It slipped to the carpet, its body sliding against cheap fabric. He mimicked its movements, stretching out until his head collided with the wall. A hollow thud followed his actions. The noise was a monster. He suppressed the urge to scream. His headache was an assailant now, trudging through his muscles, and forcing him to bring a callused digit to rub them.

The light produced from the halogen lights was painful. How he wished to become invisible. He began to question, to wonder just what was causing him, Nakano Hiroshi, to corrupt his playing. Was it the head splitting migraines? He had been acquiring them for almost three weeks now. No, that was not the culprit. That was not the answer he was seeking. They were a problem not a reason. They were just a foot note on his mammoth list of problems. In the back of his mind, he knew what was causing his mess. He knew without a doubt what was instituting this, but he refused to acknowledge it.

Shifting his eyes to the side, he cast a wary glance at his forgotten instrument. Why did it seem like he had tossed it away? Grimacing, he watched as it's shape changed. Transforming from its once mystical and siren like form into nothing more than a reoccurring nightmare, a continuous abrasion on his mental status, and an even more irritating lack talent on his part.

Averting his glaze from the Warlock he sought out the round, ticking clock.

"Four and a half hours," He breathed, tilting his head down to stare at the gray, cheaply made rug. His voice contained softness, his eyes portrayed sadness. Four and a half hours...that was how long he had been trying to finish the song. "Four and a half hours," he murmured a little louder, looking straight his voice gaining power as his eye's flashed with anger. "Hn," closing his eyes again he swallowed before unleashing.

"FOUR AND A HALF HOURS DAMNIT!"

It had never, never taken him that long to play one song. In four hours he could compose two songs, play them and then play several of Bad luck's songs repeatedly. He had messed up before, been like everyone else. He was not perfect but at least he tried.

Letting out another sigh of frustration he stared up into the ceiling. Letting his eyes wander they fell about the aimless task of counting the bumps that littered its surface.

"Like stars in the sky," he muttered, glancing back at the clock. Its time portrayed 8:30, "I guess everybody left. Hn, even Fujisaki and that guy almost lives here." He smirked at the sudden thought of his over obsessed co-worker. The guy may be cute, gifted with a sultry body, but he could truly be a drag. Bringing a hand to his face again, he brushed it against his mahogany bangs. It was time to acknowledge the part of the reason. It was time to visit his parents.

"Hn let the picking and life criticizing begin."

It was not that he despised his parents or wished to escape from them forever. It was just simply the way they acted that caused him to shy away. Ever since he gained his freedom from their parental bindings and chains, he had lived his life the way he wanted and had never looked back. This small fact had served to do nothing but cause shame to his parents, or so they said. Who knew what really swimmed around in their heads?

"Ha." He let out a little laugh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I should not talk about such things. They might lead to other topics that I might have to face, and then I'll be forced to admit things about myself that I don't want to. I suppose I should go home at least, to try to get some sleep. or something to eat."

He wanted to believe that it was his parents that made him so unbalanced but he knew that there was more to it. Lately he had been struggling with himself and his own sexuality. He didn't want to admit the truth that harbored inside, especially to his parents and their traditional, realistic ways.

Sighing heavily, he tried to push the thoughts from his mind. This act was slowly consuming him. Ignoring, pretending, and acting. Acting that his every day routine was not marred. It was great to pretend that his whole entire world wasn't slowly crumbly at the seams. To illuminate this fact you only had to look at where he was. He was sitting on the floor comparing bumps on the ceiling to stars. He truly must be losing his mind. Every time he lied or fled from the truth he was denying what he really was, and that was something he couldn't take. Having to cover up everything that he did, hiding in the shadows, it was slowly making him forget what was tangible and what was really just lies.

Everything was an illusion, nothing more or less.

Truly confusing it was. How could such thoughts transpire simply from guilt? Could he be that weak or was it an omen to take a risk and tell the world what he really was? He didn't know, and he was beginning to burn himself out. Something had to be done, and fast. He knew he couldn't hide it anymore, it wasn't fair to anyone. But the truth would have to wait. Right now he had other problems to worry about. One was his playing, the other was Ayaka. Because he was so confused lately, and his skills had been thrown out of proportion he would spend hours awake trying to concentrate. Sleepless nights and consuming nothing but coffee had replaced everything else, including his girlfriend. He knew it wasn't right to avoid the Kyoto beauty, but it was just easier to pretend that he wasn't at home than to actually face her. He couldn't stand the way she looked at him. Her eyes filled with love and devotion, expecting him to feel the same. It mad him ill. But she didn't seem to notice; she just said that that was how all long distance relations worked. He didn't believe her. Despite what the saying said, absence and separation didn't always make the heart grow fonder. He was quickly losing his infatuation with the girl, a habit that he had adapted to fix all his problems. To lose interest with things and simply forget about them when they didn't seem to be going right.

But was there really a problem to fix? Things were fine the way they were right? He sighed and clutched his sides, hugging himself in warmth. It was getting late. He grabbed his transformed instrument and packed it up. Without looking back he left the building. He drove back to his apartment and entered soundlessly. No was there to care about the noise. Switching on the light he headed towards his room where he would spend another night in unmerciful slumber, another night that he would spend alone and confused.

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2. Waking up from fantasy and delusion

Disclaimer: gravitation does not belong to me hear that! It's bad enough that I sold my friend on eBay yesterday; you don't rub that little bit fact in my face too! Big meanies, (grumbles to self while selling brother on eBay to slave merchant for a penny)

I would like to thank everyone that reviewed! Thanks for the wonderful comments!

Disclaimer, oral sex and light cursing.

Flashes….hands…. color…. everywhere. So consuming, so sinful. Everywhere he turned he was surrounded by flesh and the sweet, heavy sent of a body. Such a dismal head spinning emotion that he was more than willing to be submerged in. He was drowning in it, swimming in the body of it all. Tossing his head back and grinding his nails into hard flesh he was screaming. His voice was powerful stuck in a sutra of one worded understandings.

Yes, Yes, Yes.

Passion exploded in him as lies dripped from satin lips to stain him. He was marked red, slashed in carnal decadency. He was thrown exposed to he bright simmering lights of his new world. A volcano of lust and body essence, he had transformed to such an image.

He was falling and it never felt this good. He was crossing the thin barrier between life and what would have to be death. He was burning, he was dieing. What else could explain this pleasure, this sense of unattachment?

He could not think and he didn't want to. All he knew was that it felt amazing, felt beyond exceptable, beyond the extraordinary, and he fell into the warmth's tight embrace.

As heat blazed through his body, he grasped at it until it ripped its way straight to his core. It nestled there, weaving back and forth until he could take no more. He screamed even louder. A soft, deep velvety echo swept over him. He shivered in ecstasy, it was electrifying. He pressed closer to the heat, to the body that was all around him. He was coming closer,becoming one with those soft hands. Those satin lips that still lingered upon his fingertips. He turned his heat, seeking out that echo when he was tossed from his heaven into hell by a distinctive noise.

Bringggggggggg

The shrill force and power of that whistle caused him to be ejected from his dream. He was thrust into the land of the living with a sense of detachment. Here he was left sweating, his back and body aching with remembered warmth. Here he was brought into a familiar place with a familiar set of problems. Here he was only Hiroshi.

He forced his body up, his blankets rippling, and falling to the floor from the force of his awakening. He grasped onto the edging of his mattress, his fingers digging into the soft plush in an attempt to keep from falling. Sweat dripped languishingly down his forehead, matting his bangs to his scalp, and causing his twist in discomfort. His breathing was a quake of labor. His sharp intake of air caused his side to pinch in pain. His eyes were encrusted with yellow sleep, as his vision blurred and hands slowly relaxed their grip.

It was his average waking up routine.

He groaned, his lips parting in a cracked smiled. He licked the dry scraps of skin with his moist tongue. His throat burned and he swallowed nervously. Twisting his head to the side he shook his hair free from their place upon his clammy skin. His eyes skimmed the confines of his apartment and inspired him to groan once more. He was always in the same place, always left with such a wakening, and always alone.

He displaced his hand from its resting place on his thigh and wiped away the coating of dew on his forehead. He was sticky, hot, and unsatisfied. The light streaming in from the sliver of open space between his blinds bothered him. He turned his head to avoid the brightness and continued to listen to the annoyance of sound. Eight, nine, ten rings and still going. His phone would not be pacified until its handle was grasped. Too bad he was angry enough not to leave his warm nest of material.

"Why is everything I experience a dream or a drug, induced state of delirium? Damn, it figures...just when i was getting to the best part. At least i could have seen their face."

He mumbled softly as he chewed on his still, dry lips. Finally the phone gave one last breath and died. This caused his answering machine to kick in with its ever repeating excuses. He sighed, there was no sense putting the problem off any longer. Casting his glance down he was greated with the sight of his growing hardness.

Fuming at the sight, he quickly cursed, and threw the blankets off his body. His feet hitting the cold floor erupted a shiver through his body and he moved with a strained difficulty. He entered his bathroom and switched on his shower. Over the hum of water hitting tile he could hear the happy voice of his older brother playing on the answering machine. It was just like he expected and knew from awakening. His parents had recruited Yuji in order to get him to go home.

Suddenly a thought entered his mind. Why was he overcome with the sensation that he was still at home and forced to sneak around with a hidden erection? Smirking at the memory, he shredded his boxers, and entered the warm spray of the shower.

He moaned as once again heat rained down on his body. It was a remembrance of his dream, a substitution of the figure without a face. He knotted his fingers into fists and rested his head against cool tile. Contracting and relaxing he flexed his fingers in and out unto he untangled them from a fist and reached for the soap. Grasping the ovule bar, he let the bubbles and his mind roam all over.

Stroking and cleansing, pleasuring yet useful.

He let the water wash away all the sin from the day before. With lingering touches he teased himself, exploiting his own personal knowledge of how he liked it. With slick hands he fingered lightly yet forcefully. Slowly and with an urgent need he clutched at his member and slid up and down with the rhythm of breaking water drops. He was moaning, his voice overshadowed by the his shower as he touched the tip of it and nearly screamed. The cold touch of the tiles against his skin acted like a diffuser. It was harsh and contrasting.

The heat and the cold, the memory and the reality, his hands and the water.

He felt himself thrusting forward, moving with a powerful speed and velocity against his soft hand until he knew he was there. He came with a grasp and a muffled scream. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, bitting it until the pain mixed with the pleasure. Finally white hot cum spilled over his hand like an erupting volcano and disappeared down the drain. The water washed everything, it always did. He pressed his head into the now warm tiles as he rode out the last ripples of his orgasm. All to soon he found his hands moving to shut off the water and open the shower's door. Warm and cold once again collided and he shivered in his stream filled bathroom.

Hiro sighed and leaned his head back till it was resting against the smooth wall of the transparent Plexiglas window and once again tried to rearrange himself in a more comfortable position in which the hard plastic seats of the subway offered. Lazily glancing at the occupants on the train, shot of uneasiness rushed over him. His stomach turned and he exhaled. Across from his side and settled five seats down sat an elderly man in a wheel chair. Normally this site would only instill pity and sympathy in him but but not today.

Today though, he hugged his guitar life a life saver. The crooked smile gracing the old man' shallow and yellowish skin made him cringe. He smiled back nervously, his lips twisting with uncertainty. The old man in returned cracked open his mouth, exposing only three chipped, teeth marred with brown stain. Even more disturbing than the old man's dirty and disheveled appearance, was the fact that his shirt was absent from his chest. Wiry white hairs dusted over shriveled nipples like a blanket. The old man was only wearing a pair of ripped trousers! Hopefully this would leave a rather embarrassing, but painful reminder never to sleep in again.

After his little performance in the shower, Hiro had quickly dressed and listened to the message left on his answering machine. Not only had Yuji asked him to come home, his brother had threatened with the telling wear he kept his candy stash to his parents, but apparently his parental units had something important to yell at him about. He had groaned with annoyance and thought about returning to the shower than dwelling on just what that meat. Last time they had shanghai Yuji into calling him they had demanded that he quit Bad Luck before he was ruined.

Only god knows what they would ask him this time. Maybe they had sold him to the zoo? At least the rent would be cheaper there.

He sighed, closing his eyes, and pinching the bridge of his nose. Why couldn't they just let him live his life and be proud of him. Of coarse that meant they would have to accept him the way he was. Ha, how could they do that when he couldn't even accomplish that task himself?

"With all this stupid worrying I have made myself a little paranoid. Hell I can't even go to sleep without and dream about something delicious without experiencing guilt. Maybe I should go see a shrink, kami only knows i'm way overdue after living so many years with Shuichi. I'm surprised I'm not running down the street asking for candy and ketchup to bathe my dog with. Of coarse I would have to get a dog."

Opening his eyes he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Casting a glance around the train he noticed that they were now heading towards a tunnel. The lights flickered on and off and he clutched his guitar case eve tighter. He had now donned the movements of Shuichi as tears filled his eyes ad he shook. The old man ad continued to stare at him and was now and pointing to a tattoo on his arm. Instead of being something nice like a symbol or snake it was of a man doing something particularly sexual to a woman. Hiro pushed his legs to his chest, his breath heavy as the man pointed to him and then to the tattoo. Hiro shook his head gasped in fear as another tunnel rapidly approached. Hiro panicked, "Maybe taking the train wasn't such a good idea. But it's the only way to save money. Damn Yuji and his unsettling message!" He shouted as the subway was engulfed in darkness.

Hiro ran into the studio building, his arms wrapped around his frame until he arrived at the elevator. This shaking hands he jabbed at the red button and quickly rushed inside. Pushing the third floor button with equally vigor he tensed until the doors finally closed and he collapsed against the guard rail. He leaned his head against the smooth metal and grasped.

"Maybe I'll just pull the chair out from under him, yeah that's it. I mean, he's old. I can old run the old pervert. O' come now Hiroshi remember what you where taught. You must be kind to the elderly, must not steal the elderlys' stuff in attempts of getting away, must resist urge to crack the pervert over the head with a guitar case." He said with a determined force and a fist up to shake in front of his fist.

After the tunnel had passed, luckily for him his stop had come, and he nervously jumped up. Quickly he began to run out of the opening doors but not before the senile out man in the wheel chair flashed him and pointed to his tattoo again. Thus, leaving a severely scarred Hiro to run out of the turnpike with the deep needed urge to scream "MY EYES, MY EYES." However he couldn't shake the feeling that the old man was following him in hopes of getting lucky.

"Yes and that is certainly something I need right now. To be molested by an elderly person that can't even walk and only has three teeth. I believe that would be quite a step up from going to see my parents. Shuich would be so proud at me as well."

So running down the street he stopped and turned and got a glimpse of the old man wheeling his way down the street shouting "HIYA!" When he spotted him, he nearly had a heart-attack causing him to push a nearby kid off his bike. And thus that is why he was leaning against the studio's elevator raving about beating the crap out of perverted senior citizens. All in all I think, his day was going good.

"Well now what's this? A mumbling Hiro had a bad train ride." A voice from behind asked as he suddenly jumped and whirled around to see the smiling face of hi American manager. "K-K! What are you doing here!" He stammered. "What am I doing here, while Hiroshi I am your manager AREN'T I!" He laughed and said the last part in English. Have you been taking lessons from Shuichi about life and the world? "What no! Of coarse not, I just woke up late and had a rather scary time on the sub-way this morning. A rather old man was looking at me like I was a piece of steak and his tattoo wasn't that nice looking either."

"What, Bill is still alive? I thought he died years ago! Ah, this is our stop!"

K laughed with a surprised voice. Stepping out of the elevator he left a rather shocked and confused Hiro wondering if he could ever trust K again. Something strange must be transpiring for K hadn't threaten his life so far with a promise of a bullet in the head. Maybe this was a good sign that things were going to go well for him. He shuttered and followed K down the hallway. Suddenly he found his obsidian eyes traveling down K's frame to rest on his firm backside. He silently moaned with a lecherous lick of his lips and admired the way the American waltzed down the hall.

WAIT-did he just say firm! Was he just checking K out! Anybody but K! Well, it's not like he isn't good looking, with his long shiny hair and well toned body, and---wait! God I really need some help! Damn it Yuji!' He mentally cursed. A blush was splashed across his features in an instant as K turned around to look at him.

"Something wrong HI-RO-SHI." He said in a sing song tone and placed his hand on Hiro's back to push him through the door to the recording room.

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Hiro twitched nervously as K pointed his gun at him and laughed like a maniac on crack.

He was his usual self.

Note to self, forget the old man, this was a reminder not to sleep in and be late for work. Note number two, bye milk and never check out an American again!

They might just kill you when you're making love.

"Any questions!"

K shouted and turned his attention back to Shuichi who was crying like a baby and yelling for Yuki to save him. He was his normal self as well.

At least he had a lover to cry to help for Hiro thought with a little angst. Well, he did have Ayaka but he had so many strikes against him that he doubted the temple girl wanted to have anything to due with him. Why didn't that make him sad? I mean he was in a relationship with her, shouldn't he care that she hadn't called in a week. Surprisingly he didn't and he knew that even if she did call this very minute, he wouldn't pick up the phone. He sighed, something that he was doing a lot a lately, and tried to concentrate on what Fujisaki was saying about the newest song arrangement.

Amidst the daily boring yet interesting lecture of his bosses and co-workers, Hiro found himself starring at K. His eyes raked over and his honey blond hair and he began to salivate. The way the sun made it sparkled, the way it flashed through his mind just like the person in his dream. It was alluring.

Wait-in his dream…could it be? No it couldn't… no way the American had been his dream lover. He continued his mental ranting when he lifted his eyes downward and came eye to eye with K's blue ones. He suddenly found himself lost, all he could due was stare and slowly found himself falling into the ocean blue depths.

TBC…….


End file.
